In Over His Head
by Iluvff
Summary: Original Series - Danny's being mysterious, but he has a good reason.
1. Chapter 1

**IN OVER HIS HEAD**

**Chapter 1**

Steve McGarrett walked determinedly out of his office, followed by Chin and Ben. In three long strides, he stopped at the door to Dan Williams' cubicle as he shouldered into his jacket. "Danno, you at a stopping place so you can join me?"

Danny's attention was rapt on whatever paperwork he had been working on, "What? Uh, no. I've got to finish these reports that are already late. Where are you going?"

"You and I need to go down to the Coroner's office," Steve explained. "He's got some results to show us."

"I've really got to get this done," offered Danny, impatiently and a bit shortly. One look at the face Steve gave him in response told him to drop everything and join his boss. "Oh, all right. I'm coming."

Danny stood, pushed the papers away in frustration and grabbed his jacket from the chair, not so quietly announcing, "Nothing like a trip to the morgue to break up my day." He refused to hide the tense, annoyed look on his own face as he left his office to charge down the aisle toward the exit of the Five-O office suite.

Steve looked after him intently and followed. After Danny had left the suite, Steve paused at the door and looked back at Chin, Ben, and Jenny, who were all gathered at the secretary's desk staring at the exiting twosome. With a look of deep concern, he lifted his hand toward his remaining staff to show them two fingers of his right hand—they were crossed. _Wish me luck._

The three remaining staffers looked back at Steve, and Jenny gave a "thumbs up" hand signal.

Steve acknowledged the gesture with a nod, and, unsmiling, took a deep breath as he walked out and closed the door behind him.

McGarrett and Williams arrived at the Coroner's Office without delay. They had not been distracted by radio calls. Nor had any casual conversation diverted them, thankfully, which Steve had dreaded would involve questions from Danny about what case Dr. Bergman wanted to discuss. In fact, there had been no casual conversation between them at all, and Danny seemed less than interested in any aspect of work today.

But not just today. That had been his general outlook for over two weeks now. Steve had initially wondered about his apparent preoccupation with something other than work and had tried his best numerous times to casually coax an explanation out of his second-in-command, without success. Danny always brushed off the concern and the questions and tried to look a little less preoccupied for a while until the faraway looks, the blank expressions, and the lack of talkativeness returned unrelenting.

But it wasn't just a black mood hanging over the otherwise sunny, wise-cracking detective that worried the Five-O ohana. Whatever was on his mind was affecting him physically as well. Over the last two weeks, the staff had watched with uneasiness as the normally tanned, energetic, athletically-inclined man with the bounce in his step increasingly looked tired, haggard, pale, and drawn.

Today, the staff was alarmed to see a new sign that all was not well with Danny. As morning wore on into noon, they noticed a clear swelling near his right eye with the tell-tale tinge of black and blue ringing underneath. While the ohana had begun to suspect illness in their friend, suddenly the growing evidence of a black eye made them wonder what else might be going on.

McGarrett had not been the only one during these two weeks to try to discern the cause of the dark disposition and the disheveled appearance. Chin had in his wise fatherly way, and Jenny in her warm feminine manner, tried to get Danny to share his troubles. Ben tried to get Danny to join him after work for a drink and a bite to eat, in hopes that he would loosen up and spill whatever was the problem.

At first, the team teased Danny about his reputation for burning the candle at both ends, assuming living the high life of a Waikiki bachelor was interfering with his work. As the situation grew worse, they stopped kidding him and started serious talks with Steve about their concerns.

The unease of the staff only heightened his own, especially with the confusing appearance of the black eye today. Merely prompted by Chin and Ben who entered his office privately with the sole purpose of venting their worry about Danny, Steve realized he couldn't wait any longer for Danny to finally tell him what was wrong, as he usually did in a crisis. He'd tried the usual small talk on the lanai, even tried to gently force a confession on a "need to know" basis. The normally gregarious detective wouldn't crack.

With Chin and Ben there in the office, Steve made a quiet phone call. He summarized Danny's behavior and seemingly poor health to Dr. Niles Bergman and tried to devine whether Doc might already know something about it. Yes, doctor-patient confidentiality had its place, but this could easily be validated as a supervisor's inquiry into the fitness of an officer for duty, since Bergman was the team's official physician.

Whether the inquiry was personal or professional, it was fruitless in producing any immediate answers. Doc sounded truthfully surprised at the account and how long this had been going on. Obviously, Danny had not been in to see him. However, Steve's recounting of the deterioration of his second-in-command's condition made the good doctor very anxious to see Danny.

Upon hearing about the stubbornness and secretiveness Danny was exhibiting, Doc—with Steve—hatched a well-meaning plot to get him seen by the physician. Thus, the idea of a sudden trumped-up trip to the Coroner's office was born.

Doc was anticipating their arrival but succeeded in not appearing so. Steve entered the coroner's office first and greeted the doctor as he had done hundreds of times—essentially, hello, and get to the point. Except that, on this visit, there was no point except in successfully getting to the bottom of whatever was happening with Dan Williams.

As Danny entered the small office and flopped himself into the nearest chair without much more than a "hi", Doc saw in an instant that every concern Steve had voiced was affirmed in Danny's appearance and manner. Doc returned Dan's perfunctory greeting with one of his own, then studied Danny, who had already clearly shifted to another world mentally and was not even looking at Doc or Steve.

Eventually, Danny noticed the silence. He looked up to see the two men with their eyes drilling into him. "What?" he prompted, defensively.

"Where did you get that black eye?" Doc queried, as he approached Danny, determined to get a better look.

"What black eye?" he responded and drew himself back away from Doc as he examined the area around Danny's right eye. "Oh, that. It's nothing." Danny winced at the touch of the tenderness and swelling. "Just leave it alone! It will clear up on its own."

Doc stood up straight at the rebuke and glanced at Steve, then back at Danny. "Dan Williams, what's wrong with you? You look terrible! And I'm not just talking about that black eye!"

Irritated, Danny snapped back. "Thanks a lot, Doc! I'm just fine! Anyway we didn't come here to discuss me." Danny hoped against hope that he could divert attention away from himself and his very obvious injury. "Can we get on with what we came here for?"

Doc looked over to Steve, and Danny did the same in response. "Actually, Danno," Steve confessed, "We did come here to discuss you." At Danny's done-in expression, Steve looked genuinely apologetic. "Sorry for the ruse, but the whole office is worried sick about you. You haven't been yourself in weeks, and you do look terrible. You need to let Doc check you out."

"I said I'm fine, and I am!" Danny insisted as he stood up from the chair.

"This is not a request, my friend. It's an order." Steve looked upon him compassionately, as Doc nodded in complicity. "Based on your physical condition and your recent behavior, you have no idea how close you are to being declared unfit for duty."

Angrily, Danny shouted out his accusations, "Is this why you dragged me down here? So Doc could give you a medical reason to beach me?"

"Danny," Doc interrupted to defend Steve's actions, "I don't even need to examine you very closely to see that you're exhausted, your eyes are bloodshot, and you've lost weight. I'd venture that your blood pressure is sky-high and that your response times in a crisis would not be what they usually are. I wouldn't need much more than that to beach you."

Impatient to leave and annoyed at the trap his friends had set for him, Danny looked at the ceiling and the floor, the framed photos on the desk, anywhere but at his two interrogators. Doc noted his fidgeting and added it to his mental list of symptoms.

"This has been building, Danno, and you know it," Steve added. "Your sense of humor went AWOL about two weeks ago, bruddah."

"I didn't know that was a requirement of the job," Danny shot back.

Steve ignored the sarcastic remark and continued, "You want me to spell it out for you? John Manicote was angry at you for being late to court recently. He didn't think you were going to show and was about to ask for a continuance when you finally arrived. We're better than that at Five-O and you know it. Then I sent you home one day last week to get some sleep and you came back looking worse than before. Think about yesterday, Danno. You were way too hard on that female suspect we arrested. She was half your size and wasn't going anywhere. You've been biting people's heads off left and right."

Danny's blue eyes lit up with angry fire directed at Steve. "Oh! So, one short temper around the office is OK, but two is too many?" He knew he had hit Steve's bullseye, and, feeling cornered, relished the small victory.

Steve stood stunned for just a moment, then crossed his arms across his chest, and sighed heavily. "Danno..."

Letting his second enjoy the angry, albeit temporary, triumph, he cut it off soon enough. "Now tell us what is going on with you!"

"It's personal!" Danny intoned with stubbornness.

"Is it a woman? Someone by the name of Angie MacDonald maybe?" Steve dropped the name deliberately like a knife, as he would to a suspect when he knew more than the suspect thought he did.

Danny, in his weakened mental state, was taken aback. "What do you know about Angie?" He was much more subdued now, but still very defensive.

"Remember, you gave me an alternate phone number recently where you could be reached if I needed you and couldn't find you at home," Steve shared.

"You traced it to the owner," Danny begrudgingly concluded. "So you've been investigating my private life?"

Shaking his head vigorously, Steve answered, "No, Danno, no. Her name—that's all I know. And I only know that because I have been worried about you. Obviously, you've been spending a lot of time with her lately. What does she have to do with this?"

Danny looked at Steve wearily, "Steve, don't you think that if I were shacking up with some hot babe I would be happy? This is not happy." He sat down heavily, as if in defeat.

Doc stood aside and watched the intense interaction between Steve and Danny with great interest. He had only ever seen these two before as colleagues, friends, like brothers. They were known as an unshakeable team that shared almost a telepathic link—where a look transferred thought from one to the other. They were usually always on the same page of music. He had never seen them in opposition to each other about anything really important. Especially significant, Doc noted, he had never before seen Danny challenge Steve so vehemently.

"That's enough, gentlemen," Dr. Bergman decided. "Danny, listen to me, as your physician. You are apparently under a great deal of unusually difficult stress, whatever the cause. People under extreme, long-lasting stress lash out—or collapse. We've already seen you lash out, and it's just a matter of time before you collapse. Let us help you."


	2. Chapter 2

**IN OVER HIS HEAD, Chapter 2**

Danny leaned over in the chair, propping his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands, then spoke, "But there's nothing you can do… honestly."

Steve put his hand on Danny's shoulder in support, "Give us the chance, my friend," Steve offered.

Danny straightened up in the chair, leaned his head against the wall, and closed his eyes. "It's all about Angie." He opened his eyes and gestured to himself. "You think I look bad? This is nothing. You should see her. She's the one you should be concerned about. Nobody, but nobody, is concerned about her—except me!"

"Is she in some kind of trouble? Are you protecting her somehow?" Steve asked attentively, as he also took a seat, thankful that Danny was finally opening up.

"Trouble? Not the kind you're thinking of. But yes, I am trying to protect her—from herself. I'm trying to keep her from killing herself, which she has already tried at least once," Danny explained in exasperation.

Steve and Doc looked at each other in confusion, until Doc interrupted Danny. "I saw you some time ago at the hospital, having a very intense, animated, conversation with one of our Emergency Room doctors. Did that have to do with her?"

"Yes. That was when she wrecked her car. She drove off the side of a steep roadside, flipped a couple of times, but she survived. I tried to get the doctors to keep her for mental evaluation in addition to her injuries, which didn't turn out to be very serious. They said they had no reason to suspect the event was anything more than an accident. So they sent her home!"

"What has caused her to be so intent on suicide?" Doc asked.

"Depression, I guess, is at the root of it. But it's so hard to understand how it started. She had a great life, but she became depressed for no apparent reason. Over time, she missed a lot of work, so she lost her job. That made the depression worse. It's a vicious cycle, but I don't know how it really started."

"Depression is never simple, Danny, but many times it will start as a chemical imbalance in the brain. Did she see her doctor and get treatment?" Doc wondered.

"She took medication for a while. The doctor increased it, decreased it, changed it—anything to help her, and none of it seemed to. She gave up on that. Now, she refuses to go for help at all. She's convinced that nothing CAN help her, and that there's only one way out."

Danny continued to barrage his friends with the details they had asked for. "You have no idea what I've done in the last three weeks. I have bags of stuff stored at my apartment that I took from her place—kitchen knives, scissors, medicines, matches, belts, her apartment keys—anything that I thought she could use against herself. I've padlocked the doors to her lanai, so she can't jump. I sleep on her couch with one eye open while she walks the floors at night with insomnia."

"Danno, you can't be with her all the time. Has she been alone while you've worked?" Steve wanted to know.

"No. You needed me at work, and I needed to work. If it hadn't been for being able to come to work, I would have gone insane myself. So, I've got two ladies alternating staying with her when I can't be there."

Steve was briefly comforted to believe that there were other friends involved. "So she does have other friends that are helping her."

"No, Steve, they're not friends. They're employees. I hired them to stay with her when I couldn't be there."

Doc was shocked. "You mean, out of your own pocket? Danno, that's the kind of thing that could ruin you financially in no time." Steve, not knowing much about the cost of nursing care, was freshly disturbed at the sacrifice Danny was making.

"Tell me about it! But what could I do? If she won't go for help, I have no authority to seek help for her since I'm not a relative. I feel like I've talked to every mental health professional on this island seeking help for her. I'm desperate and I don't know what else to do! She's done nothing criminal, so the police can't insist she be hospitalized. Her parents won't bother."

"She does have parents? In the islands?"

"If you can call them that, but no, not in the islands. She has no family here, no siblings at all anywhere. Her parents are divorced and live hundreds of miles apart, both in Texas, and refuse to talk to each other. I've talked to both of them individually, though. They say she's being overly dramatic and wouldn't hurt herself. And, that there's no way they can leave their jobs to come to Honolulu to see for themselves."

Steve leaned in closer to speak. "Danno, I don't understand something. How is it that all this responsibility fell on you? How involved are you with this lady?"

"We dated some last year, but we parted as friends. She started calling me again just to have someone to talk to. She didn't get out. She didn't see people. After she lost her job, I think I was her last link to humankind. All her friends just disappeared, except for me. I knew she was depressed, and I tried to keep tabs on her. But after her accident, I spent more time with her and realized how seriously ill she was. I was afraid to leave her alone. I even talked to the psychiatrist, Dr. Bishop, who has helped us with some of our cases, Steve. She was kind enough to arrange to see Angie for an after-hours appointment yesterday."

"How did that go?"

"It didn't. She didn't want to go, but I was determined. I had to drag her out of her apartment kicking and screaming. By the time we got to the car, I had thrown her over my shoulder and carried her bodily. I think some of her neighbors must have called HPD." Grimacing at the thought, he announced, sheepishly, "In fact, Steve, there's probably an APB out for someone of my description. That's another thing I've got to do today—go down to HPD and straighten that out. If I don't come back, it may be because they've arrested me. At least I'll get some sleep that way."

Certain that he could stop Danno's impending arrest for kidnapping, Steve tucked that information away for later. "What about Dr. Bishop?"

"When we finally got to Dr. Bishop's office, Angie refused to talk to her. The Doctor's hands are tied."

"And your black eye?"

"That was this morning. I was trying to get her to eat something. She threw a book at me." He stopped long enough to take some deep breaths and admit, "I'm sorry. I feel like I'm talking in circles, I'm so tired. Am I making any sense?"

"Yeah, unfortunately, you are," Steve answered as he and Doc leaned back in their chairs, quietly digesting the difficult details of Danny's life as caregiver to the mentally ill.

"Well, now you know." Danny seemed to have achieved a little mental relief in his revelations, but he was no less convinced that the situation was impossible and that, in the end, he didn't know if he could stop her from her deadly intentions.

Steve took a deep breath and replied, "Yes, now we know. And I've always known you were too good for your own good. You can't go on like this."

"I don't have a choice. Anyway, thanks for your concern, but there's nothing you can do. This is not your problem—either of you." Neither was it Danny's but his conclusion underscored his commitment to this heavy, solitary burden.

Dr. Bergman added, "Danny, I still want to check you out. No matter the cause, you are suffering physically. I need to know how you are."

"There's no point, Doc. You could relieve me of duty, force me to eat and rest, but that will not keep Angie from hurting herself. That's the sad part." Steve and Doc looked at each other as they recognized the dejection in Danny's voice.

Doc impressed his intention on Danny. "Humor me. Besides, your boss has ordered it! It won't take long. Then, Steve, if I may make a suggestion? Take Danny somewhere where he can sleep soundly for a few hours this afternoon before he has to be back at Angie's this evening."

"My place will work. While you sleep, I'll get over to HPD and get you off the hook for kidnapping."

"Thanks. Then at least I'll be able to show my face around HPD again," Danny said as Doc Bergman reached over to answer his ringing phone. After a moment, he turned to look at Danny and said, "It's for you. It's Jenny."

Tiredly, Danny took the phone and answered routinely, "Yeah, Jenny?" He listened intently, with his attention becoming more piqued with every passing second. "Oh, no," he gasped. "Put her through, please."

"Mrs. Sagura? Tell me what happened," Danny spoke brusquely.

Steve and Doc looked with concern at each other and then at Danny. After about 30 seconds of watching Danny listen, they heard him say, "Yes, go out now and keep looking. I'll call the police, and then I'll be there in just a few minutes."

Danny hung up, then immediately picked the phone up again and started dialing. Before he was done dialing the number, he said to Steve and Doc, "That siesta is going to have to wait. Angie's missing."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Had it been anyone else asking HPD to look for an adult missing less than an hour in a busy stretch of Waikiki, they would have been told it was too early to file a missing person's report, too early to suspect that the person was in any danger. But this was Dan Williams asking, and this person had gone missing while under Dan's own unofficial suicide watch.

"White female is depressed and suicidal. Short, curly blonde hair, five feet six inches tall, 120 pounds. She is barefoot, wearing white shorts and a bright blue solid T-shirt," _just like half of all the other people walking around here, _Danny thought to himself while he spoke into the police radio mic. _With that generic description, HPD won't find her. I've got to keep looking myself. _"Williams out."

He'd already shed his suit coat, throwing it into the back of the Five-O sedan, along with his tie. He had to keep looking for Angie, and he wasn't currently concerned about decorum. For all he cared, he would take personal leave time to look for her. He also wasn't sure about the extent of the search beyond his own efforts. He knew it was unusual for HPD to search for someone—especially an adult—who'd been missing, apparently run away, such a short time.

Danny thought Steve was working on it from the office, but he wasn't sure. He was just so tired, he couldn't think straight. Even with the benefit of increased adrenaline since he heard Angie was missing, his personal reserves were not at their peak. His energy was flagging, and his spirits sagging.

Walking, trodding, plodding, he kept going, looking at every woman he met—her body shape, her gait, her sense of purpose as she ambled—to see if it might just be Angie. He was far away from his sedan now, which he had left parked at the side of the street blocks ago. He couldn't hear the police radio bark at him….

But Danny could suddenly hear a commotion—and sirens—toward the beach near where he was.

Breaking into a run, he asked people as he went by them what was going on, getting no clear answers. _It might be something else, maybe it's not Angie, but I'd better check it out…. _

As the beach came into view, he saw the throng of onlookers poised on the sand, gazing out into the waves. In the distance—way, way out in the choppy surf—he saw what appeared to be a male lifeguard swimming out to sea, followed by other lifeguards swimming behind him. Even further out was another swimmer they were chasing, dangerously far away from the waves lapping at the sand.

As he reached the sand himself, he came upon two HPD officers waiting on the shore. "What's going on?" he anxiously asked.

"Hi, Danny. Got a lady swimmer who decided to take on Kanaloa today. Don't know if the lifeguards are going to catch her or not. Crazy!"

With the epithet ringing hurtfully in his ears, Danny Williams grabbed the binoculars from the hands of the police officer and searched the ocean for a closer view of the swimmer.

It was hard to see. She was so far out, facing away, and vigorously swimming against the tide. Occasionally, she would pause, bob up and down, then face out again toward the sea and resume her breaststrokes. He could see enough….

"Call the Coast Guard! Get a boat out there to head her off and pick her up!" Danny ordered.

"One's already on the way!" the officer informed him.

But Danny was already stepping out of his shoes. Handing the binoculars back over to the officer, he unclasped the holster with his gun from his waist, removed his wallet and badge and put it all carefully into the officer's hands. "Take care of this for me, will ya'?"

"Danny! You don't need to go out there! The Coast Guard will catch her if the lifeguards don't! What are you doing?" the officer yelled, as Danny dashed off toward the water. To his partner, he asked, pointlessly, "What's up with him? He's as crazy as she is!"

Danny waded into Kanaloa's domain until he was deep enough to dive in full force. He swam underwater for as long as he could before coming up for air. He could feel his remaining clothes slowing his swimming down, but he had to keep moving forward. When he came up for air, he would get a good look ahead of him at the swimming lifeguards and aim himself in their direction.

Ahead of them, he could barely see Angie. He had to get to her! As he swam, his anxious thoughts wrestled in his head. _How depressed do you have to be to decide that drowning yourself is less painful than living? Angie! You __are__ crazy! You had a great life—nothing is worth dying this way! _

The next time he bobbed up out of the water for air, he stopped long enough to call to her at the top of his tired lungs, "ANGIE!"

She stopped and turned toward him, then bobbed below the water and up again. For a moment, she lay her back down on top of the water, floating. Then just as quickly, she changed position, once again swimming away, pursuing her attempt at exiting this life.

By this time, Danny was far out away from the crashing waves. He maintained his forward motion, but it was getting tougher. He was tiring so fast and breathing so hard—when he had the chance. How many times had he paddled out this far and even further, looking for a perfect wave to surf? He shouldn't be this tired, not now when it was so important! These thoughts made him stop, take in some badly needed gulps of air, and tread water while he pondered why he could not make better time toward Angie's position.

While he paused, he realized a sound was growing in front of him—the hum of the motor of a large boat. He heard orders being shouted through a bullhorn as the boat came to a full stop in the distance. He heard several loud splashes as rescuers plopped themselves down into the water near Angie, surrounding her, much as the police tried to do when apprehending a suspect. _Don't let her get away! Thank you! Thank you!_

He swam even less energetically now as he watched the Coast Guard rescue Angie and carry her bodily onto the boat. She did not fight them. He saw them bundle her with blankets and then gently aim their boat toward the nearby exhausted lifeguards. His relief buoyed his spirits, if not his body.

For Danny, it seemed every breath was harder to take than the one before. The more breaths he took, the more he seemed to need. Then suddenly, everything began to go dark. His legs had no more strength to move in the water or to boost him above the waves. His head unwillingly went under the water. The next moment, he found himself struggling with his arms to reach the surface, gulping the crystal blue water as he went. He reached the surface, but was unable to stay there and sank yet again. This time, the darkness was total, and this time, he didn't struggle to the surface.


	4. Chapter 4

**IN OVER HIS HEAD**

**Chapter 4**

Steve McGarrett arrived at the hospital's Emergency Room entrance in a huge hurry. He was quickly approached by Coast Guard officers who had been waiting for him.

"Mr. McGarrett?"

"Yes!" Recognizing the uniforms, he ventured, "Was it your boat that rescued Williams and the other swimmers?"

"Yes, sir. The lifeguards are fine, but we brought Williams and the McDonald woman here for treatment."

"How are they?" Steve really wanted to know primarily about Danny's condition but thought it would be rude not to ask after the lady as well.

"Miss McDonald was weak, conscious-but she sure wasn't talking about why she was so far out in the water…."

"How is Williams?"

"When we brought him in, he was breathing on his own again—"

"Breathing on his own? He wasn't breathing when you pulled him out of the water?"

"No, sir. He had no pulse, no respiration. The CPR brought him right around, though—"

"The CPR? You had to resuscitate him?" Steve felt as though the breath had been knocked out of him. Danno—almost dead! "How long was he underwater?"

"Not sure. Maybe a couple of minutes."

McGarrett tried for a nonchalant reaction, but his mind and heart were screaming as he grabbed for the back of a nearby seat to steady himself. This was far worse than he had imagined! How had this day gone so terribly wrong?

"Have the doctors said anything? Have they been out at all? I need to talk to them."

"Steve!" Doc Bergman came out of the exam room as if on cue. He had forewarned the nursing staff to let him know when McGarrett arrived. He knew how Steve could react when he was concerned for one of his men, especially Danny. He had already been concerned for his health earlier today when he had tricked Danny into going to see Doc for a surprise exam—which was pre-empted by the crisis of Angie's disappearance.

"Doc! How is he?"

"We've moved him to Intensive Care. Come on, I'll let you see him."

That wasn't the answer Steve McGarrett wanted necessarily, but he'd take it. Yes, he needed to see Danno.

Remembering the Coast Guard officers, he turned around to face them before he left with Dr. Bergman. "Gentlemen, thank you. I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you did."

"All in a day's work. You know, I'm sure."

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. Thank you." Steve then turned his full attention toward Doc as they left toward the elevator to go to the ICU.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"What do you think, Doc?" Danny heard in some muffled sort of way. It sounded like Steve's voice….

"He very nearly drowned, Steve. People don't realize that even a temporary total immersion in water can result in longterm health problems. We need to watch him carefully for the next eight to ten hours for circulatory, respiratory, or neurological complications."

Danny heard the words but their meaning escaped him. Distracted by physical sensations, he felt the cool, smothering feeling of an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. He was covered in layers of sheets and blankets, but down deep he still felt wet and cold. Then he realized there were strangely warm fluids running into the back of his hand.

"According to the Coast Guard, he only required a few CPR compressions to get his heart and breathing restarted. He's got some bruising on his chest from that, to match his black eye from earlier. We just have to see if the lack of oxygen he suffered will create problems."

"Circulatory, respiratory, neurological…," Steve said somewhat sarcastically. "There isn't much else that could go wrong, is there?"

"Oh, there's plenty. Just be patient, Steve. We'll know something within twelve hours or so."

"But, Doc, Danno is an excellent swimmer. I can't understand how this could have happened."

"He was exhausted, in a weak state. From what I understand, he had no business going into the water in the first place, when there was already rescue underway."

"Steve?" came a frail, raspy voice from the bed.

Doc and Steve came quickly from the room's periphery to hover over the weak patient. "Hello, Danno," Steve said tentatively. "How do you feel?"

"OK. How's Angie?"

Steve sighed in exasperation at Danny's lack of concern for himself and looked over to Doc for the answer. "Danny, Ms. McDonald did not almost drown as you nearly did." Then, turning toward Steve, he addressed the rest of his comments about Angie to him. "She never lost consciousness, for instance. She's been given a clean bill of health physically, but nevertheless, she has problems. Danny was right about her. This was a suicide attempt. She's on the psychiatric ward. She should get the help she needs now, if she'll cooperate."

"She won't," Danny spoke pessimistically.

"Well, maybe not, but let's leave that in the hands of the psychiatrists who are treating her and let's see about getting you well, shall we?" as he set about examining the patient and eliciting weak but fairly coherent responses from Danny. Steve stood like a sentry nearby, watching and listening to the medical exchange of information. As Doc finished his evaluation, Steve breathed more easily now that Danny was awake and responsive.

Without warning, though, Steve allowed his frustration to supplant the worry he had so recently overcome and lashed out at Danny. "So what kind of crazy stunt was that you pulled at the beach? The lifeguards were in pursuit. The Coast Guard was coming. There was no need for you to go after her and risk your life like that! It was a stupid move!"

Danny's brow furrowed, and he closed his eyes against the barrage of heated words. It was as though the anger physically hurt his senses having just awakened from a groggy lack of consciousness.

"Steve!" Dr. Bergman growled from his stand at the other side of the bed. "This is not the time!"

Looking down at Danny's pained expression, Steve surrendered, "All right," and turned away to compose himself. Doc joined him near the window.

"Steve, Danny's still a sick man. If you need to vent, you're going to have to do it somewhere else. You're not helping him this way."

He lowered his voice into a soft yet stern whisper. "Doc, you've got to admit he didn't have to put himself in danger today. It was a bad decision."

Doc sighed and gave Steve an all-knowing look. "You couldn't do what you do everyday if you didn't minimize the prospect that something bad would really happen, and then it's too late."

"That's not the issue. This had nothing to do with police work. He's been in over his head with this girl for weeks—"

"And that's not the issue, either. It's that you almost lost a good friend and your closest colleague today. I've known you long enough to understand that. But right now, Danny needs your support, not your judgment." With that, he left the tall Irishman to ponder his words and returned to the bedside of his patient, who remained awake, yet silent.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Steve McGarrett stayed at the hospital, close by Dan Williams, for the next twelve hours, just in case complications developed. Fortunately, they didn't. Doc Bergman was pleased with Danny's recovery but still convinced that his previously weak state argued for extra recovery time in the hospital, where he could rest in relative peace.

And indeed, he did sleep like the dead. Hours on end, night and day, Danny slept. When awake, he spoke little, especially to Steve. Whether afraid of more anger from his boss, or too tired to argue, he just avoided it all and remained hushed and morose.

Meanwhile, Angie remained confined in the psychiatric ward. Little was known about her condition or whether she was improving. Danny hoped she was finally getting the help she needed through medication and/or therapy.

While in the hospital, Danny thought a lot about Angie and her condition. Had he handled it right? Why would someone in a great life situation become depressed, then suicidal? Danny had never suffered from depression and didn't understand it, but he had a great sideline interest in psychology and human behavior. Doc Bergman even had a psychologist visit Danny and answer his many questions about the condition.

After a couple of days, Doc released Danny from the hospital with strict orders for a few more days of rest before returning to the Five-O offices. Steve arrived to drive him home, trying to make amends for the anger he initially showed before Danny was able to handle his own near-drowning, let alone Steve's reaction. Over time, the chill between them was lessening, with Steve heeding Doc's advice and being more supportive.

Eventually, life returned to normal for Danny. Work kept him busy as usual. Late nights were mostly spent at the office, with Steve, Chinese takeout, and a load of case files to go through, He tried to see Angie at the hospital, but it was not permitted while she was under treatment. He suspected that she was refusing to see him, and knowing she was in good hands, he left her alone.

One late evening at work, Danny received a phone call. "Williams," he answered.

"Danny?" a soft voice asked.

"Yes. May I ask who's calling?"

"It's, it's Angie McDonald," the voice spoke hesitantly. "I don't know if you want to talk to me or not, but I wanted to thank you for how you helped me."

Surprised, he replied gently, "Angie. Wow, it's good to hear from you. How are you?"

"Better. I really am. I wanted you to know that I'm going to Texas to be with my mother for a while." Her tone was light, sincere, and calm.

Heartened to hear her sounding so well, he hesitated that she might be stopping her therapy. "What about your treatment? You need to continue it, don't you?"

"Oh, don't worry. The doctors have already arranged for me to continue my treatment in Houston. And I want to. I don't ever want to be close to being suicidal again. I've learned that my depression is chemically-based. I was probably born with it, and I've got to keep it under control. That's what I didn't know before—before you helped me."

Danny was slightly overcome with satisfaction over her improvement and with humility that she would think he was even a little responsible for it. He felt uncharacteristically speechless for receiving credit he believed was undeserved.

"I know you suffered a lot with my crazy antics, Danny," she continued. "I'm still sorry about your black eye!" she laughed.

It was good to hear her laugh, Danny thought.

"I can't thank you enough, so I just thought I'd make a stab at it before I left. You're one special guy, you know."

No, he didn't know. But she did.

PAU


End file.
